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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599269">Unfurl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled'>unsettled</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Alpha Quentin Beck, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Bittersweet, Bottom!Quentin, Cuddling, Fluffuary, Instinctual behavior, M/M, Omega Peter Parker, Prostitute Peter Parker, Scent play, bonding bites, fluffy for this universe i guess, one of the uglier abo universes, quentin's not a complete asshole, scent based issues, though it's not very fluffy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:07:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin's not stupid; Peter's only doing this, any of this, because Quentin pays.</p><p>So if he wants to pay for cuddling and a sleep over, that's his problem.</p><p>(Prompt: "Stay a while/the night")</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Quentin Beck/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fluffuary 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unfurl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Peter looks tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not just worn out from the way he’s just fucked Quentin, as good as ever, but exhausted. Like it’s settled in his very bones, weighing him down. He smells worse than usual too— bitterness and misery and hurt and shame wound through the scent of far too many alphas. Whatever he’s been doing lately hasn’t been good for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Quentin has a say in any of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighs, very faintly, his eyes opening. Sits up, shoving the sheet down, and this is where he leaves, every time. Checks to see if Quentin wants another round, but if not, Peter’s gone. He’s never lingered more than fifteen minutes, if that, and Quentin’s not sure if it’s just habit or that he can’t stand to be around a client after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want Peter to go yet. It’s not that he wants another go, it’s just— he’s gotten a little fond of Peter, and there’s a part of his brain that bristles at the thought of letting an omega he likes go off smelling like that, feeling like that. A part that just wants to keep him in Quentin’s space, however temporary, a little longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay a bit,” Quentin says, and Peter glances over at him. “I’ll pay,” he adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to go again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter raises an eyebrow when Quentin shakes his head. “Doesn’t have to be,” Quentin says. “Doesn’t have to be anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you—” Peter cuts himself off; he’s pretty good about not treating anything as ‘weird’. Probably why he keeps getting such terrible clients. “You’re saying you want to pay for… cuddling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” Quentin says. Wrinkles his nose a little. “Don’t call it that. But— yeah, pretty much. I’m willing to pay for just your company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter turns to face him, stare at him. “I don’t know if you’d really be getting your money’s worth,” he says slowly. “I’m not the best company today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say you have to entertain me,” Quentin says. “Just be here. Think of it as indulging me, if that’s easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indulging you? That’s what you’re going with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quentin watches him. There’s no way Peter could understand, especially not with the view of Quentin he’s probably formed from what they do. But Quentin— it doesn’t matter how unsafe it would be to try and keep an omega, how unlikely he would be to find one that suits; he still wants one. He’ll always want one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for a few hours at least, he can have one he actually likes a bit. Or could, if he handles this right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I got to pamper an omega?” Quentin says, quietly. “Or got to spend a little time with one that wasn’t sex or business? Well, no, of course you don’t, but—” he shrugs. “Maybe I just want to fall asleep with an omega in my bed. Smell you when I wake up and get that hit,” because it’s such a high to know the omega stayed. Know that they chose to, chose Quentin despite the risk and felt safe enough to stay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just say it’s been a while,” Quentin says, and he’s dropped into that luring range. Fuck, what does that say about how much he wants this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter shivers, responding to that tone. Takes a breath, eyes narrowed. “Alright,” he says. “How long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could he— “Are you free to stay the night?” Quentin says, taking that risk, and Peter’s mouth drops open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t— it’ll cost—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really care,” Quentin tells him. “Just give me a number later, it doesn’t matter. You know what your time’s worth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter shakes his head, just slightly. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll stay the night. But if I snore I don’t want to hear you complaining about it.” Quentin snorts and Peter gives him a bit of a smile back, a tiny easing of his mood that’s promising. “Be right back then,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes back after a bit in the bathroom, slipping under the covers and curling up next to Quentin. Quentin turns his head to look at him, and Peter looks… still tired, and a little wary, and possibly curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really just want me to hang out and fall asleep in your bed?” Peter whispers. “There’s a lot better omegas you could get for that. You wouldn’t even have to pay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quentin rolls onto his side, facing Peter. Reaches out, slowly, and traces a finger down Peter’s cheek, his neck, across his collarbone. “But I like this one,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter shivers, but doesn’t relax. “You don’t have to romance me,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Quentin says. “I’m not stupid, Peter. I know what this is. Turn over, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits while Peter shuffles around; pulls him closer the second he seems to be settled, Peter’s back against his chest, his arm around Peter’s stomach. “Still,” Quentin says, “I do like you. Is that such a bad thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter doesn’t answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quentin brushes his lips over the bond point on Peter’s neck, the pale scars covering every inch of it, and Peter tenses. Doesn’t pull away or say no or try to stop him from biting, from bonding him, and that’s— how many times has he had it happen to be able to react so little? How many times has he broken one, and how— how has he been able to stand it? How can he just let Quentin put his mouth there without even a protest, when he has no way of knowing Quentin would never bond him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hooks his hand over Peter’s shoulder, holding him in place, and kisses that spot. Licks it, lightly, Peter’s breath catching, and nuzzles into his skin, scenting him. He’s still pretty rank, if not as bad as that first night, but there, deep under everything else layered on top of it, there is that faint thread of what has to be Peter’s scent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s buried so far down it’s barely there, but still— still, it smells bright. Smells like Peter was happy, once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He showers that spot with attention; soft licks and careful, delicate kisses, burying his face there and rubbing his skin against Peter’s. Keeps at it, and keeps his teeth from ever even touching Peter, and slowly, Peter’s scent rises. Slowly, so incredibly slowly, Peter relaxes in his arms, his scent unfurling, bitter resin mellowing into almost floral frankincense, cedarish—pine?—smoke growing beneath it. It’s an odd scent, and Quentin won’t get it all like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as Peter sighs and goes limp, heavy in his hold, calming, it grows, and this— this is what Quentin really wants. An omega, quiet and blooming scent and pleased, tucked up against him and purring. He might not—almost certainly won’t—get that last from Peter, but the rest will do just fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if it washes away a little more of that sickening guilt that always lays so heavy on Peter’s scent, all the better.</span>
</p>
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